


veil of shadow, crown of stars

by vaenire



Series: Bakoda Fleet Week 2020 [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25625131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaenire/pseuds/vaenire
Summary: Hakoda couldn’t deny he was glad for some space, some time alone with his best friend if he let himself just listen to the wind and waves in the distance, feel the content fullness of a good dinner in his stomach, enjoy the dissipating scent of meat cooking in the smoke of the fire. The very last light of the day was disappearing from the cliff face above them, painting Bato in the warm orange glow of the fire, silhouetting his profile.//Bato and Hakoda enjoy rare alone time.Bakoda Fleet Week Day 3:smoke| interrupted
Relationships: Bato/Hakoda (Avatar)
Series: Bakoda Fleet Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858234
Comments: 6
Kudos: 86
Collections: Bakoda Fleet Week 2020





	veil of shadow, crown of stars

**Author's Note:**

> **Rated M**

It takes a little while for the fire to get going. That was partly due to their long discussion of how to build it-- they wanted heat and light, and to be able to cook over it, but they didn’t want  _ too much _ heat or light, lest they attract unwanted attention. 

But now their food was cooked and eaten and the embers were hot, flames growing low, and Hakoda was leaning back on his palms, legs splayed over the top of his sleep roll. 

Bato crouched at the edge of the firepit, expertly poking the fire with a stick and adding their second to last log. 

They were on a reconnaissance mission, on their way back to the warriors’ camp after locating the nearest Fire Nation encampment. When the sun got low and it became clear they wouldn’t be able to return before nightfall, they resigned themselves to making camp in the sheltered nook under a rock face under the mountain. 

It was safer to camp with the men, leaving no chance of the forces being split from each other. However, Hakoda couldn’t deny he was glad for some space, some time alone with his best friend. If he forced himself to forget everything else, let himself just listen to the wind and waves in the distance, feel the content fullness of a good dinner in his stomach, enjoy the dissipating scent of meat cooking in the smoke of the fire. The very last light of the day was disappearing from the cliff face above them, painting Bato in the warm orange glow of the fire, silhouetting his profile. 

There was something satisfying in the slight curl of Bato’s hair in his wolf tail, the crook of his nose, the slim curvature of his biceps where he reached out to tend the fire. It struck him in the chest where he reclined, and he tilted his head to watch Bato’s motions, the little bit of wobbling to keep his balance as he shoved the logs around, the corner of his lip turning downward when the log rolled wrong. There was a time that this would have been an entirely normal evening with his friend, no sensual feelings springing up in Hakoda’s stomach, no tension as Bato turned his eyes onto him. Even the quiet, unimpressed look Bato gave him took on an air of intimacy that was still relatively new and exciting for Hakoda. 

“What?”

Hakoda hummed a little ‘I don’t know,’ before holding out his arms toward Bato. 

Bato tilted his head in a way that belied that bemused expression on his face even when cloaked in shadow, but acquiesced, shuffling over to Hakoda to let him wrap an arm around his narrow waist, stubbornly sitting beside Hakoda despite the man’s best silent suggestion that he sit in his lap. 

Hakoda leaned into him, pressed his mouth to Bato’s shoulder where the short sleeved tunic left skin exposed. 

Hakoda was warmed by his full stomach, by the fire, and by Bato’s body as he put his arm over Hakoda’s shoulders. He turned his bemused smile toward Hakoda, dipping his chin to rub his nose against Hakoda’s cheek. 

He tilted his head just so and stole a quick kiss, then another. 

This wasn’t a very old facet of their relationship, yet not entirely new either. He knew the pressure Bato liked, the way it stole his breath when Hakoda took his chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed him again and again. It would be difficult to do if Bato wasn’t leaning down into the touch, breathing against Hakoda’s mouth between pecks.

It emboldened him, his hand tightening on Bato’s waist and pulling him even closer. Bato acquiesced with a laugh, like Hakoda knew he would, turning his body into Hakoda’s and onto his knees, one sliding between Hakoda’s. 

Bato’s face was fully shadowed like this, slight impressions of his cheeks and chin and his silhouette against the fire all Hakoda could see when he craned his neck to look up at him. Hakoda wrapped both arms around Bato’s waist now, pulling him flush against Hakoda’s front even if it meant sacrificing any comfortable position to kiss him. He settled for running his lips over the man’s collar bones, nudging the neck of his tunic open wider to accommodate him. 

For his part, Bato leaned down to press his cheek to Hakoda’s hair, petting the back of his head and igniting a syruppy desire in the pit of Hakoda’s stomach, like a torch hitting an oil slick on the water. 

He smoothed a hand up the back of Bato’s tunic, feeling each ridge in the man’s spine through the fabric as he went, nosing back over the path his mouth had just taken across his collar. He kissed the top of Bato’s sternum, then the depression beneath one clavicle, feeling the faint bump of Bato’s heartbeat there-- far faster than the slow, resting beat Hakoda fell asleep to beneath his head resting on Bato’s chest. 

Placing one hand firmly between Bato’s shoulder blades, his other hand disentangled from Bato’s waist just long enough to pull at the sash holding his tunic closed, pulling it from its loops and dropping it somewhere beside the bed rolls— a problem for later. 

He could feel Bato’s chest rise and fall with every breath in his arms, pressing subtly closer to Hakoda, asking for more without being uncouthly direct. Hakoda pressed his smile into the line between Bato’s pecs. He pulled at the back of Bato’s leg between his own and Bato obliged by swinging it over Hakoda’s hip, straddling him properly. He settled some of his weight on Hakoda’s thighs, scooting in until his pelvis was flush with Hakoda’s abdomen. 

Hakoda rubbed his nose into Bato’s chest contentedly, and Bato smelled of cedar and salt and smoke— they would smell like smoke and roast fish all day tomorrow, no doubt, as it clung to unwashed clothes and hair and skin, making the flesh of his exposed arm and face prickle. The smoke blew toward them, and Hakoda could feel every pore of his face when he made any expression, soot sticking to his sweat. 

Bato pulled at the tie in Hakoda’s hair until it came loose ,and Hakoda shook it out before Bato threaded his fingers through it again, massaging the roots that had been pulled tight all day. 

Open mouthed kisses were peppered over Bato’s chest, hand between his shoulder blades rubbing at the tension there, though Hakoda knew this position didn’t give him great leverage for a massage. THe movement pulled at Bato’s tunic, pulling it from his narrow shoulders and down to the curve of his biceps. He found the small of Bato’s back and rubbed lazy circles there with his open palm. He searched for the hem of the tunic, sliding up Bato’s back and feeling the heat of the campfire on the back of his hands. 

Bato pressed chapped lips to Hakoda’s brow, and spoke softly despite the way the smoke caught in his throat and roughened his voice. 

“Hakoda.” 

Every syllable of his name spoken into the dark made his spine tingle. “Yes, love?” 

Bato breathed into Hakoda’s temple, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. Hakoda knew what he was asking for, but he would insist that it didn’t hurt to make certain. 

There was no room for mistaking it when Bato canted his hips just so, pressing his pelvis ever closer to Hakoda’s abdomen, and he felt Bato’s certainty against his hip, felt the fire burn just that much hotter, and he needed to see Bato’s face. 

Planting his feet firmly on the ground behind Bato, he threw their weight so he could shift to one side, lying parallel to the fire and casting shadows across one half of Bato’s face, the other glowing warm orange and yellow. 

Hakoda settled onto his back, hands falling to his friend’s hips. 

“Tell me what you want, love,” he said, surprised at the scratchy huskiness of his own voice. Hepushed Bato’s tunic wide open, dragging callused thumbs over the smooth skin of Bato’s hips and tracing an old puckered scar there. 

Bato leaned forward over Hakoda, bracing his arms on the bedrolls on either side of his head and sending a thrill through him. Bato kissed his mouth, his lips parted and hot. 

“ _ This _ ,” Bato said, his voice nothing more than a scratchy growl against Hakoda’s beard as he ground down into Hakoda’s hips— and it took a moment before Hakoda remembered what he’d asked in the first place. Yeah, he wanted this, too. 

Hakoda swallowed back the groan trying to escape his mouth and focused on gripping Bato’s hair and biting his lips, breathing in his smoky gasp. It wasn’t fair that only Hakoda had his hair free, he decided, and smoothly yanked Bato’s tie undone with one hand while the other slid to grab Bato’s ass, using his still-planted feet as leverage to match Bato’s grind. 

Hakoda would give Bato anything he wanted in the world in that moment, but Hakoda wanted him to ask for it. So if this is what he asked for, this was exactly what he would get. 

Bato’s tunic hung open, barely clinging to his shoulders, and it needed to go. He grabbed the loose short sleeves and tugged them down until Bato took the hint and sat up to help free his arms— the tunic went in the same direction as the hair ties had. Bato settled his arms back on the ground above Hakoda’s head

Now the curvature of his defined muscular arms was thrown into contrast, shadows emphasizing the strength of the body against his— Hakoda pressed his mouth to the shoulder nearest his face, feeling it flex against his lips as Bato rolled his hips down against him once more. Hakoda settled his hand back on Bato’s ass, feeling the muscles work but wanting more. He pawed at the cinches of Bato’s trousers above his left hip, desperately trying to pull them loose so he could slide his hand inside. 

“Koda,” Bato said above him, his voice threatening to break. 

“I know,” Hakoda said before biting the soft patch of skin under the ball of Bato’s shoulder joint, smoothing it over with a kiss. He reached his free hand above his head for his bag, for something to help move things along. His hand closed on a small vial and he clucked his tongue in victory. 

“How…” he started to ask, but as usual, Bato premempted his thoughts. He sat up right, taking the vial from Hakoda’s hand. Shadows flickered across his bare chest, his hair falling to the side of his face again and causing fuzzy stripes of shadow to dance across his cheeks and chin. 

In truth, Hakoda loved every little thing Bato did-- starting as kids, they could share a joke with a small look or even a quirk of the mouth, the raising of a brow; as young men and warriors they could share directives with the slight angle of the hip, the shrug of a shoulder. 

So now, when Bato bit his lip and lifted his chin, Hakoda knew all that he needed to know. He carefully set the vial beside his knee, his other hand disappearing in the shadows behind him. Hakoda ran his hands up and down Bato’s thighs, feeling how his friend willed tension out of his legs. 

Hakoda wanted to kiss him when his eyes slipped shut, his teeth chewing into his lip. Instead, he grasped Bato’s muscular thighs encouragingly, slowly pulling the trousers lower and lower. 

Bato braced a hand on Hakoda’s broad chest, putting some of his weight onto him as he leant forward. It grounded Hakoda, cemented him in the moment. For a rare moment, Hakoda allowed himself to be weighted down, anchored in place and transfixed by the shadow Bato’s hair cast across the illuminated side of his face. He reached up in a trance and tucked the hair behind Bato’s ear. 

It drew Bato’s attention, dark eyes locking with his before Bato grabbed his hand and held it against his cheek, leaning into it. Hakoda shivered to feel Bato’s breath against the meat of his thumb, his eyelashes against the side of his hand as he closed his eyes again. 

Without his hand on Hakoda’s chest, his balance wobbled slightly and Hakoda grabbed his waist firmly to keep him on his knees. 

Bato had never been a talkative one, never a loud one during sparring or dancing or… This. But the sigh he released against Hakoda’s wrist spoke volumes, as did the way his next breath filled his chest. Hakoda stroked his thumb over Bato’s cheek, and Bato turned his face into it, kissing his palm. He was looking at Hakoda, and his gaze anchored him the same way that his hand had minutes earlier. 

When he sat up on his knees, pawing at the hip cinches of Hakoda’s trousers, Hakoda helped him, pushing his hips off the roll and helping push them to his mid thighs. He inhaled sharply at Bato’s first touch, wrapping around his length carefully, grabbing the vial once more to rub slick down Hakoda’s length. 

Hakoda couldn’t just lie back when Bato started to line them up-- he wanted to bury his face in Bato’s neck, to kiss him, to hold him-- all rather difficult in this position. And besides, this was Bato’s choice, and Hakoda trusted him, trusted him to take control away for the night. Hakoda, afterall, was warm and anchored and loved. He kept his hands on Bato’s hips as he began to sink down. 

Hakoda bit down hard on his lip, focusing on anything other than the heat of Bato’s body and how badly he wanted to roll his hips up into him-- there was a breeze through the trees, a lone bird call in the dark, there was the distant bubbling of a spring, the crackle of their fire as it ate the now charcoaled logs. 

When Bato balances his weight on a hand to Hakoda’s shoulder once more, about halfway down to Hakoda’s lap, he can’t keep his eyes off of him. His hair has fallen out from behind his ear, but the shadows are not complete enough to hide the way his brows are screwed together, his mouth slack, his breathing just audible. 

The circle of trees around the clearing they camped in reached toward the heavens, framing the clear and starry sky above, a breathtaking backdrop to Bato’s silhouette, half illuminated in deep, glowing reds. 

Hakoda’s heart seized in his chest and he exhaled sharply as Bato settled fully onto his thighs. Bato took a moment to just breathe, in through his nose, out through his mouth. Hakoda mirrored him, still reeling from the feelings blooming in his chest. He ran his hands from Bato’s hips to his knees and then back again. Hakoda yearned to touch more of him, to pull him to his chest until there wasn’t an inch between them. He wanted to feel him everywhere. 

But as Bato began rocking, just barely sliding his hips forward and back, Hakoda’s nerves fired to every place Bato  _ was _ touching him. His thighs pressed to either side of Hakoda’s waist, his hands on his chest, his backside against Hakoda’s pelvis. 

The warmth from the fire was fading, splashing their skin with the barest of light, but Hakoda barely felt its absence. Starlight filled its place. 

Bato’s pace stayed gentle and shallow, which combined with the aftershock of the awe and want he’d only begun to put a finger on and filled his insides with pent up momentum that whined for release. 

When Hakoda rolled his hips the tiniest amount possible, meeting Bato halfway and knocking a gasp from him, he decided he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

He closed his hands on Bato’s waist and planted his feet firmly on the ground once more, using his greater bulk to his advantage to thrust upward, breaking Bato’s rhythm. He could see Bato’s jaw tighten in the blue skylight filtering through the trees. 

He couldn’t help himself anymore, he needed more of Bato’s skin on his; he surged up and wrapped his arms around his love, running his hands over all of his back and shoulders and hips before grasping the hair at Bato’s nape, pulling his head down to catch his mouth in a hot, messy kiss. He heard himself moan into Bato’s mouth, whining when Bato’s hips slowed once more. 

Bato’s hands smoothed over Hakoda’s shoulder’s, caressing his biceps before yanking them by the elbows so he could grasp Hakoda’s wrists and push until Hakoda crashed back to the bed roll and pressed his wrists into it above Hakoda’s head. 

Hakoda moved to resume thrusting his hips upwards, but Bato preempted him, folding his feet onto the top of Hakoda’s thighs and effectively decimating the depth of his movement. He was desperate to move, to touch, to swallow the little vocalized moans as they bubbled up Bato’s throat now. But he couldn’t, by his lover’s choice-- he could only enjoy what Bato gave him. Kisses on the neck, teasing touches on the chest when he shifted to hold both Hakoda’s wrists in one hand. Hakoda was going to explode out of his skin if Bato didn’t let him touch and move and show Bato all the affection he had built up inside for the man. He moved his hips feebly in time with Bato’s shallow movements. 

“ _ Bato _ ,” he whined. He  _ needed _ : his hands on Bato’s skin, his arms around him, his mouth on him. He needed Bato everywhere, needed to press against him until they would never ever be apart. 

Bato was kneeling over him, shifting more weight onto Hakoda’s wrist and he leaned down to kiss him. He blotted out the stars, hair falling into Hakoda’s face and hiding the trees, and Hakoda could breathe as he leaned down to capture his mouth. 

All he could see was Bato, his eyes adjusting to the dark of the night just enough to see the impression of his face, see the darkest blue shade in his eyes and the sheen off his lip when he pulled back to groan against Hakoda’s cheek. 

All he could feel was Bato: his thighs were starting to tremble against Hakoda’s hips, hand growing lax on his wrists and tight against the side of Hakoda’s chest, breath shuddering across Hakoda’s cheek and ear. 

When Bato started to breathe sharply in time with his own hip movement, voice catching on each exhale, akoda could take it anymore-- he wriggled in Bato’s hold, freeing his wrists as Bato’s grip easily failed. He wrapped one arm around Bato’s middle, pulling him ever closer to his chest, and the other wrapped around his length before stroking slow and steady in time with the movement of his hips. Hakoda thrust needily up into him, only able to move an inch or two upward. Still, Bato’s mouth fell open against the corner of his mouth, a rough groan breathed into his skin. Bato’s movements picked up pace as best he could on shaking legs, caught between pushing down into Hakoda’s lap and forward into his hand. 

Hakoda was so close to the abyss, heart racing to get there and drag Bato over the edge with him. He rubbed his thumb over the head of Bato, running his nails into the heated skin of his lower back to grab his ass roughly, no longer able or willing to be gentle. 

Bato came with a surprised moan that Hakoda swallowed, stealing it with the rest of Bato’s breath when he curled down into Hakoda’s chest, legs no longer able to support himself. Hakoda held him through it, still bucking his hips weakly as Bato trembled through the aftershocks. He smelled the smoke and salt in Bato’s hair, catching a glimpse of the stars beside Bato’s head as he climaxed. 

They stayed like that, Bato straddling Hakoda and kneeling over his body, for several long moments until Bato leaned to one side and then the other, unfolding his legs to tangle with Hakoda’s and laying heavy on Hakoda’s front. The man was almost all limbs and not  _ heavy _ , but it was hot and they would probably want to pull up their pants and tidy up before falling asleep. 

But it was nice for now. 

Hakoda pet his friend's hair, pulling out the beginning of tangles and massaging his scalp in a way that made Bato lean into him more, nuzzling his nose into Hakoda’s neck. 

They breathed in tandem, enjoying the laxness in each other’s limbs. Hakoda felt down the ridge of Bato’s spine, the way now slicked with sweat. Coming to the base of his spine, he carefully reached further and extracted himself, groaning with Bato at the loss of pressure. He swept back up his back, coming to rest at the nape of his neck. He could feel Bato growing laxer, letting more of his weight onto Hakoda— he tugged a lock of his hair playfully and shrugged his shoulder in a way that suggested he roll to the side. 

As Bato complied, one arm staying draped across Hakoda’s chest, Hakoda reached for something to clean them up with. Discarding it quickly, he unceremoniously shoved an arm under Bato’s ribs and pulled him against his chest. Bato was not regularly so pliant to happily pillow his head on Hakoda’s chest, but neither was Hakoda usually so relaxed, sinking back into the plush bedroll. They had replaced old supplies relatively recently, and the insulation of the new rolls had not yet worn through like his old one. 

“You need to spread the coals,” Bato mumbled into Hakoda’s chest, and he was  _ so, so  _ tempted to pretend he’d already fallen asleep. “I know you’re awake.” 

He let out a whine from deep in his throat. The soot and smoke had cooled on his skin, and he was comfortable. “The fire’s out, it’s fine,” he whined, knowing neither of them bought it. 

“Hakoda.” 

He sighed through his nose and carefully extricated himself, re-cinching his own trousers, quickly spread the coals with their little shovel until he didn’t see any color any more, and threw himself back onto the bedroll without regard to where his limbs contacted Bato’s. 

They curled toward each other in the blue-tinted dark, Bato’s head back on his chest, breath on his pec, hair tickling his neck. Their legs tangled together, and Hakoda tried to fight off the heaviness of sleep weighing him down, needing to savor this little moment of peace, knowing that tomorrow they would be back to the war tent, back to weighing the danger and the payoff of another challenge to the local Fire Nation strongholds. He was not often able to give Bato the whole of him, his entire attention and love and affection that he desired, so he wanted to fit it all into these moments when he  _ could _ .

He felt Bato’s breath slow on his chest, his head heavy. He pressed his lips to Bato’s hair and laid back, looking up at the tree-framed sky and let himself drift to sleep. 


End file.
